jpaulgorman

Telepathic nose ring. High tone printers. Delivery clouds. Plutonic stripes. Katalystic memories. Oblivion of planets. Asian strangers. Retreat. Retreat.

take a step back, or up rather through the clouds above the blue beyond where gravity reigns take a look from the moon stand in the moondust and raise a glass mock the important sneer at the tradgedies plead for peace.

These gods been whining. Complaining 'bout bread crust. Mirrors only reflecting the outside. Their insides are a godly mush. .be back in five. .got the whirling wind. .sun makin' purple. .and blooms blow away. Full of vanity and weakness. Growing soft on top of the hill. These gods are a big disappointment. The good they coulda done.

.throughout our journey we learn how to live. .to have mercy and know the pain of others. .the happy souls know the heart pump is mortal. .this machine needs tender love and care to maintain. .lubrication and proper use. .it will beat for the love of others and victory. .it will weep for lost brothers and sisters. .it will sink when reality does not equal expectations. .pour it out, your blood all over the floor. .give it up and become the patriarch. .give it up and save the world. .save the best for paris.

.heard a painter hum. .heard a hammer pound. .heard an island drum. .heard a silent sound. .heard an engine start. .heard a roaring flame. .heard talk about art. .heard a wise man sang. .it's all you got when your blinded. .by the neon lights of late night San Antone. .them neon lights of late night San Antone. .been blinded once again in San Antone. .heard a bathtub fill. .heard a coffee pot. .heard you got a good deal. .heard you loved alot. .heard an old dobro. .heard a four four beat. .heard a face that glowed. .heard stomping feet.

.awake and peer through the broken fence. .weeds, four feet high and blooms of healthy trees. .the air is heavy with the smell of humid heat. .the songs and colors of european pride. .a relic from the past as we hold on to what we know. .the world has shrunk to avatars and masks. .red dirt slides and grunts and groans. .the relief of victory and the knot of defeat.

.partly, it was a magnificent night. .the bells, the conditions, the spells. .but there was tradgedy on the inside. .predicted futures of woe and decline. .perhaps love will save all of us. One another. .a mishap to bring us closer. .the mind of a hero in a place of need. .searching for saved souls to encourage and convince .heart gets twisted and wrecked. .needing love to survive and enduring anguish. .eventually, it will squeeze off the blood to the bloody ole mind. .mind over body, lost in the end. .boredom, envy, apathy, and days of leisure. .traps of spider webs and quicksand. .birds of all colors will be left, still singing. .the life of a digger without a plow.

the eternal mind laughs loudly if only we could stop the raging of others oh, the days when we described silence noises from places other than ourselves the twangy singer could move her hips but no one has the voice of cray thank you very kindly the cavernous place was filled gittery musicians and ponytail holders parking was easy ten dollar drinks were worth it the brother of stevie ray showed him his first chops referred to as the badest man and he was hammond organ lifted the place blues is best in a small bar the glowing advertisements golf courses and city magazines struggling stair climbers with canes renegade radio--knon-- left some stickers lyrics on a hotel notepad parlor guitar from 1856 looked like it would play blind lemon jefferson played it in the early 20's one thing is clear nobody wants to listen to the blues yawns and early departures before smoking gun encore was the best of the night silence quieter as the room emptied...